The Way I Am
by RumCake
Summary: War is on the horizon and DG asks for a set of drums. This is what happens next. DG/Cain One-Shot


DG unpackaged the drums from their oilskin covers reverently. Her mother had been shocked with her request, but DG had just quietly asked her if it was at all possible to spare the resources for her to have a small set of lap drums. It was a small thing for the savior of the O.Z. to ask, according to the tanners and leather smiths that had come among the refugees to Finaqua.

Even with the war brewing on the horizon, and the homes that needed rebuilding, a few of them found the time to make the small set of drums as a gift to their youngest princess.

The drums weren't the only instrument she knew how to play, but she knew that making a small set of lap drums would take a great deal less time than building and properly tuning a baby grand piano. She ran her hands over the shined wood, silently sending her thanks to the craftsmen who had given them to her.

A song by Ingrid Michaelson came to DG's mind as she sat in her room, the drums ensconced between her crossed legs. There was a warm breeze drifting over her from her open window, lifting her hair in its caress. The beat came easily to her as tears started to fill her eyes.

"_If you were falling, then I would catch you._

_You need a light, I'd find a match. _

'_Cause I love the way you say good morning._

_And you take me the way I am.…_"

She sang with the precision that comes from practice, the words and tune carrying her away to a place where civil wars were something that you heard about happening a hundred years ago on the History Channel, and the Paladin got the girl at the end of every episode.

The princess kept playing and singing, unaware of the growing audience outside her door. Azkadellia, Ahamo, and Raw listened to DG sing from the hallway with bliss. There was something about the song at that particular time that set them at a strange sort of ease. Their country was on the brink of civil war and she was singing a love song about sacrifice and commitment.

"_If you are chilly, here take my sweater._

_Your head is aching, I'll make it better._

'_Cause I love the way you call me baby._

_And you take me the way I am._…"

The princess's song continued, drawing a crowd below her as well, as the song was carried from her open window to the yard below where resistance fighters and their families had set up a camp amidst numerous refugees that had flocked to Finaqua as soon as the word had been sent out that it was safe. Some of the women were crying, resting their heads on their husband's shoulders, while widows held on tightly to their children as they felt their eyes water up but tried not to cry.

If they had been paying attention, those on the ground would have noticed the tears welling up in one particular man's eyes as he listened to the soft tune. It felt like she was singing to him alone.

"_I'd buy you Rogaine when you start losing all your hair._

_Sew on patches to all you tear._

'_Cause I love you more than I could ever promise._

_And you take me the way I am._

_You take me the way I am._

_You take me the way I am_."

Other than some confusion about what Rogaine was, the song was thoroughly enjoyed by all who listened to it because it was the last piece of love that they'd have for a long time to come. The Queen's army was leaving soon to meet the Longcoat led rebels before they made it that far south.

As DG finished the song, the group outside her door could hear muffled sobs coming from within. Their hearts ached with the pain that DG was feeling, as well as the pain of the O.Z. about to be wrenched in two.

---

The troops would be leaving in the morning. Cain knew this, and he knew that he had been asked by the queen herself if he'd command one of the regiments. He also knew that when DG had found out that he had accepted, she had cried herself to sleep that night after spending hours playing mournful beats on those drums the leather smiths had made for her.

Once he'd asked her what the song was called and she muttered something about it being a song the military had played at times of war. "It's called 'Taps'," she whispered, tears filling her dull blue eyes again. She seemed to be crying a great deal lately. "Please don't make me play it for you or Jeb, Mr. Cain," she begged softly as the tears began to fall. "It's a funeral march."

Her words had been enough for him to pull back and wonder what kind of life she had lived on the Other Side that she knew military funeral marches. His heart ached at the idea she had known this kind of pain before the eclipse.

---

Wyatt stood outside the princess's door, his hand poised to knock, knowing that she would just be waking up, along with the sun. When he finally got up the nerve to knock, he didn't have to wait as long as he had thought for her to open the door.

The tear stains on her face were noticeable, even in the dim light. "Mr. Cain," she said, surprise lacing her words slightly. "Come in."

Wyatt followed her inside, removing his hat and fiddling with it as they sat down on the small sofa that was placed strategically close to the fire place. The embers were cold from the night before, just as the soul of the land was cold in the approaching dawn.

"What is it?" she asked after a spell of silence. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave tomorrow?"

He nodded, uneasily squirming in his seat. "That's why I'm here," he finally said, his voice soft and rough at the same time.

"What do you mean, Mr. Cain?" she asked, her eyes full of untold sadness, and if he wasn't mistaken a flicker of hope, "It's too early for games."

He shook his head, running a hand over his hair. He'd never been good at this sort of thing: finding the right thing to say. Adora had just always known what he had meant to say and hadn't pushed it. Hell, he hadn't even told her plainly that he loved her until a few hours before their wedding.

"Look, I ... I heard you singing that day you got your drums," his eyes met hers and he tried his hardest to convey his emotion into that gaze.

DG faltered - she had meant for him to hear, but hadn't exactly expected him to be so blunt about it. "And?" she asked softly, noncommittal despite the desperation she saw in his gaze. And the love.

"Who were you singing to?" he prodded gently.

Her eyes began to water again, as her voice broke, "You know who."

He leaned forward, wiping her tears from her face with his thumbs as he took her face in his large hands, "Tell me anyway," he whispered, his breath warming her nose and cheeks.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't see the soft rejection in his clear blue eyes as she responded truthfully (as she always did with him, whether she wanted to or not), "You. I was singing to you."

"Open your eyes, DG," Wyatt ordered in a whisper. When she did, he smiled softly, "I just have one question." She tensed under his hands, expecting the worst. "What in Ozma's name is Rogaine?"

DG let out a chuckle as she smiled, "It's something men use to stop hair loss on their heads."

"In that case," he replied, finishing the statement by leaning in to capture her lips in the perfect first kiss either could have imagined.

She pulled back a little, her breath coming in heavy gasps that caused her breasts to push against his hard, muscles. "I want you," she whispered, kissing the underside of his jaw. He groaned in pleasure and she added, "I need you. Please."

Hearing her say that caused fire to burn his loins, and Wyatt couldn't help but lean in for another kiss, this time much more possessive and passionate than before.

"DG, Have you done this before?" he asked, pulling back. "I need to know."

With a pretty blush she shook her head, unable to vocalize her lack of experience for fear he might want to wait until he got back.

He stood up, bringing her with him, and easily picked her up. Planting a kiss on her neck he replied, "This is going to hurt - I can't help that. Do you trust me?"

She nodded as she felt the bed beneath her. She trusted him with all of herself, including this.

"Good."

---

"Please try to come back to me," DG whispered to Wyatt, her head resting over his heart as they lay entwined on the bed.

He pulled her closer to himself, knowing that soon they would have to get up and face the war that was looming so close in the distance. There was no verbal response he could give to her concerns. They both knew that there was a chance that he wouldn't make it back to her.

Instead of words, Wyatt brought her face up to his again. His eyes telling her what his mouth could not. He'd do his best to come back to her - especially now. After all, who else would take a broken, beat-up old Tin Man just the way he was?

* * *

A/N: Please tell me what you think. Piece of crap? Too sappy? Sorry that it's not M, but I'm really bad at writing smut. Trust me on this one.


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